


Oops, I have a Naga

by Spectascopes



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bittybones (Undertale), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Naga, Physical Abuse, Reader-Insert, Rehabilitation, Suicidal Thoughts, more tags to be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2019-07-28 21:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16249712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spectascopes/pseuds/Spectascopes
Summary: You found him half dead in an abandoned house.You never anticipated having a bittybones, part snake or otherwise. But here he was.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> little fun thing, i miss writing classic sans so here he is, back at it again in tiny half-snake form  
> (also, yes. another bitty rehab fic. don't even talk to me i'm VALID)

You found him half dead in an abandoned house.

It was your job to inspect the houses before they were torn down- nothing too fancy, just to make sure there wasn’t anything suspicious or valuable in them. You were a pre-demolition inspector, not a bittybones expert.

But you found him anyways. Curled in the corner, furthest from the window, clutching at his tiny, stained hoodie despite his lack of consciousness. Cold as ice. The only hint that the naga bitty was still alive was the faint glow of his blue magic.

You poked him once. He didn’t move.

“Shit…” you muttered under your breath. You’d found cats, dogs, once you’d even found a pet skunk, but you’d never had to deal with a bittybones. 

It didn’t look like the little guy would make it much longer. He was thin, magic fading fast, cold, probably starving. The last people to rent this place had moved out months ago- had he been here this whole time?

“C’mon, buddy, wake up time…” you said, but he refused to budge, limp. 

You sat on your knees next to the half skeleton, half snake. The thing was close to dead- obviously unwanted. You could just leave him here to die from the cold, the November chill creeping up and taking him without a whisper. You chewed your lip.

You’d heard stories about bittybones. You’d never had one yourself but people had a way of talking. It was hard to find the abused or mentally ill ones homes- everybody wanted the healthy ones. They often ended up Falling in shelters where nobody truly cared for them.

You sighed. Your conscience wouldn’t allow you to leave him, or take him and drop him off for dead in a shelter. 

You scooped the limp creature into your arms. He was about the length of a soda bottle, though his upper half was only four inches or so. 

Maybe he’d make it till morning.

 

When you got home that day, the naga safely tucked into your car as you went about your business, you took the little snake from his jacket-wrap you’d crafted and went about making a bed. An old shoebox functioned as the frame. You laid your softest shirt in the bottom and, once you’d deposited the naga and rearranged him so he’d be comfortable, you put another over top of him. And then another. The thing was still chilly, despite your best efforts. 

“C’mon, little guy, don’t you dust on me,” you whispered to him, taking the shoe box and setting it underneath your desk lamp, hoping to get some heat into the poor thing. You hadn’t convinced yourself to keep him quite yet- maybe if he made it through the night you’d think about the repercussions of your actions. You could always take him to a shelter, though. 

The whole ordeal reminded you of trying to rehabilitate orphaned kittens as a teenager back on the farm you’d lived on. Praying to some God you didn’t believe in that they’d be okay, to just make it through the night, only to wake up to feed the kitten and realize it had passed, despite your efforts. You gulped as you ran a hand along the naga’s skull. 

You stayed with him the whole night, falling in and out of sleep as you sat over the snake and made sure he didn’t dust. 

It had to be four in the morning when finally, finally, he started to move.

“Ngh…” came the low, raspy noise. You sat up straighter, drawn out of your dozing, and looked intently at the naga.

His eyes opened slowly, like they were protesting. The little white lights inside were dull, but they still found you without much trouble and narrowed at once.

The blue-magicked naga didn’t move, just stared at you. His breathing came a little faster as he coughed and took in his surroundings. 

“Wh… Where am I?” he questioned, voice hoarse from disuse. It was low for something so small, much deeper than the human expected. 

You told him your name. “You’re at my apartment. I found you in that old house.”

His eyes went wide. There was a moment where you couldn’t read him, couldn’t begin to predict what he’d do, before he coughed and snuggled into the shirts. 

“Huh. ‘Kay.” He looked up at you. “You gonna sell me?” he questioned, the s noise a bit of a hiss, like a snake’s.

You held up your hands. “Listen, little buddy, I’m not… I’m not super sure what the hell to do with you yet. I found you half dead in a house scheduled to be demolished.” You gave him a raised eyebrow look. “Why were you in that old place?”

The naga bitty looked away at once with a sad smile on his face.

“It ain’t like it matters. Seems like whoever left me there never came back for me… huh.”

You frowned. “I’m sorry…” you said, because you didn’t know what else to say.

The bitty laughed. “Ain’t your fault. ‘Sides, I don’t blame ‘em. I ain’t the kind of bitty people like to keep around.” He coughed again, God you hoped he wasn’t ill, and lifted his hand to tapped his finger against his right socket. When you looked very closely, you saw it had a tiny line running through it, just enough to be visible. “Guess I wasn’t all I was  _ cracked _ up to be.”

You didn’t laugh. It didn’t seem like the bitty had expected you to.

“What’s your name?” you asked.

“Well, I’m a Sansy. People usually call me Sans.”

“Sans,” you repeated. “You hungry, Sans?”

“Literally starving,” he replied with a tired grin. “You can let me go now. I can probably… catch a mouse or somethin’ like that.”

“I didn’t rescue you just to let you starve,” you said, frown growing. “I’ve got some leftovers in the fridge- you like french fries?”

At the mention of such a thing, the Sansy’s eyes almost,  _ almost _ regained their light. He played it off with a shrug, but you could hear his stomach grumble.

“I can eat ‘em.”

“I’ll get you some water, too. You just stay put, alright?”

“Mm,” he mumbled, seeming not at all unhappy with the request. He snuggled into the t-shirts. He was taking this very well, all things considered.

You didn’t miss the emotions that had flashed through his eyes during your conversation, though. The sadness. The pain. He’d been abandoned, and he obviously wasn’t over it.

Well. He was your problem now, and you’d do what you could to rehabilitate the little thing.

When you returned, warm, kind of soggy fries in tow, he was exactly where you’d left him.

“Getting warmer?” you asked as you sat down at the desk beside him.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, giving you another false smile. “If ya hadn’t picked me up I’d probably be dust  by now… heh. Might’ve been for the better.”

You shied away from such topics, instead presenting him with the food. “Here, all yours," you said, though you made a mental note to address this later.

He plowed right into the fries, slowly at first, and then with more vigor. 

“Sorry they’re a big soggy- you know how old fries get.”

“Taste damn good to me,” Sans said with a mouthful of french fries. “Mm, that said, this could be a plate of moldy bread and I’d probably eat it.”

“Gross,” you commented, which made him smile just a little bit as he continued to eat.

After he’d eaten until you could visibly see his little tummy bulge, he chugged some water and then curled back into his t-shirt bed.

He seemed to be trying to hide it, but he was weak. He barely made the crawl back into the shoe box, and even after he managed to get himself inside, he was shaking and breathing heavily.

“Hey, easy, okay?” you said, reaching out and going to touch his skull. He shied away from the touch, and you pulled back.

“Sorry,” you said.

“No, it’s… it’s fine. Heh, sorry, I’m not… used to that,” Sans explained, his little hands bringing the blanket up to cover him again. He was so darn small.

“May I?” you asked. You’d read before, some trivial article on Facebook, that bitties needed physical affection as well as emotional. Something about their magic and soul needing validation and love. If you were going to care for this Sansy, you’d better get used to it.

“Sure,” he conceded. 

You reached out again, and with one finger, you rubbed along the top of his skull, mindful 

of the tiny crack he’d shown you. It was a strange, smooth surface, still a few degrees too cold for your liking, but getting there. 

Maybe without meaning to, he leaned into the touch. You pulled back as he did it, unprepared. He blinked up at you from the lack of connection so you put your hand back down and continued to pet him for a little while.

Eventually it was time to go back to bed. You made sure the naga was no longer on the verge of Falling Down before you got into your own bed nearby and tried to sleep.

You weren’t used to having other things in your apartment. It was going to take some getting used to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please check the fic tags, past self harm and its evidence in this chapter

The next morning, the naga slept in. You didn’t blame him or try to wake him up- it was Saturday, and he was weak and nearly dust. It was almost noon before you approached his shoe box and gently touched his shoulder, shaking it. 

“Time to get up,” you announced. He groaned, opened his eyes just a little bit to peer at you, and then rolled over on his side to face away from you.

“Mm. Five more minutes.”

“C’mon… you gotta eat, get some meat on those bones,” you said, which elicited a surprising giggle from the little snake.

“Heh… okay, okay, you got me,” he conceded, turning back to look at you. His eyelights were still weak and dim, a small smile on his sleepy face.

You reached out and laid a finger on his forehead. It didn’t feel particularly warm, thank God. Sans stretched a little, his bones shaking, before falling back into the shoe box with a huff.

You took the shoe box in your hands and brought it to the kitchen. Your apartment was by no means large- it was rather small, only the bedroom and main area- so it was a short trek.

“Nice place,” Sans commented, shakily pulling hs upper half over the side of the box to look around. 

“Thanks. I like to keep it tidy.”

“Mm, if I owned it it’d be a mess.”

“It’d also probably be a lot smaller, huh?”

Sans chuckled before a cough took him. His breathing was ragged as he came out of it. You stared down at him in worry as you deposited the naga on the counter and went about digging in the fridge. 

“Okay, how about some ham and cheese?” you asked, sifting through the space and seeing what was available.

“Sounds good to me,” he wheezed, still recovering from his cough. He took a few deep breaths. “I’ll eat just about anything. S’why I used to be so fat.”

“Well you’re certainly not fat right now,” you acknowledged as you brought over the single string cheese you had left and the container of deli-sliced ham. “I’ll do my best to fix that.”

Sans stared at you for a moment. Some fleeting emotion passed over his face before his eyelights went weak again and he coughed a bit.

“Why’re you doin this, anyways?”

“Doing what?”

“Y’know. Keeping me alive.”

You winced at the wording but deposited the food beside him nonetheless, freeing your hands so you could rub the back of your neck. You would have replied, but the naga was quick to continue.

“Woulda been better for everybody if you’d just let me starve.”

“Hey. Don’t talk like that,” you said, forgetting the food for a minute and hunching down to be closer to the bitty. 

The naga didn’t seem phased by his own words, nor your call-out of their nature. He simply stared up at you before shrugging into his too-big hoodie and rubbing his arm.

“Okay.”

You reached out and bopped him gently on the head. “It’s not a good habit to get into. Pretty soon you’ll be cracking jokes about wanting to die on the daily, and that’s just… not good.”

“Okay.” His face was emotionless as he stared off into space.

You sighed. “Okay. You want to eat now?”

“Yeah,” he replied. It brought him out of his stupor, at least. 

He was quick to eat almost a full slice of ham and a nibble or two of the cheese, his cute little fangs leaving small holes in the off-white surface. Once again his tummy was visibly swollen through his blue hoodie.

His words still rang in your head, though. You’d used to think like that- depression was a pretty common thing, but you didn’t know that bitties could potentially have it… you hoped this little guy wasn’t depressed, or if he was, that it wasn’t that bad, and a nice home would help things get better.

“I ate way too much,” Sans said with a little burp. He laid back down in his bed, shaking slightly.

“Next time try to eat slower- I know you’re hungry, but the food isn’t going anywhere. Promise.”

“Heh. Okay,” Sans said. He turned over in the bed to be facing you. His breathing was a little shaky.

“You gonna be okay?” 

“M’fine,” he said at once, before bringing up an elbow to cough into it. It took him for a moment, and when he stopped coughing he was once again a ragged mess.

God, what were you doing?

“We should take you to the vet,” you said. “You’re sick.”

“I’m okay,” he said again, but he seemed to realize he was lying. 

“You were half-starved, passed out and freezing… and now you’re coughing.”

“What’s it matter?”

“I didn’t rescue you just so you could dust. I don’t want any bitties haunting this place, I’ve got a lease.”

That actually made him laugh, which devolved into another fit of coughs. 

“Yeah. I’m gonna call the vet.”

 

You called the vet that morning, and by some stroke of luck they said you could bring him in. You explained that it was a rescue, and that you had no papers for it, and they said that was no problem- apparently as long as you were throwing them money, they were content. Though they suggested you advertise a missing naga. You said you would. You weren’t going to.

Sans was nervous. You could tell by the way he kept shifting in his shoebox, wiggling around and mumbling stuff.

“You sure I have to go?” he asked as you loaded him into the passenger seat of your car. His browbones were knit in concern.

“I’m sure. What if it’s a fever?”

Sans mumbled something and curled up in his box.

The drive there was uneventful. You’d never had pets, so you’d never been to a vet before, but you found it without much problem. Sans got increasingly more antsy as the ride went on, picking at the fabric of the shirt and his own hoodie and continuing to mumble and murmur about who knew what.

The waiting in the reception area wasn’t much better. There weren’t a lot of people considering the vet was only open half days on Saturday. A few people with their dogs, one with a kitten, and somebody with what appeared to be a rat. You held your shoebox, Sans tucked inside as the naga peeked over the lip and stared down all the animals and other people. He didn’t seem nervous of them, or wary, so you weren’t sure what was up.

“Hey, it’s fine, Sans,” you reassured him. “Just a check up. You’ll be okay.”

“Heh. Yeah. Nothin’ to worry about,” he said, but he was staring at the floor and wouldn’t meet your eyes.

The receptionist called your name after what felt like hours, but in reality was probably only a few minutes. You carried Sans past the other people waiting and followed the nice lady into the exam room, where the vet was waiting.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted, hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, wearing scrubs and a nice watch. She was younger- you hoped that didn’t mean inexperienced. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a bitty in our care before- why don’t you put him on the table and we can see how he’s doing.”

You nodded and gently sat the shoebox down. Sans stared up at you before grabbing the hem of his hoodie where it sat on his tail and pulling it downward.

“Hey there, little guy,” the vet greeted, reaching out and putting her hand against Sans’s forehead. She frowned. “Feels a little warm.”

They took his temperature, the tiny little thermometer sitting in his mouth under his conjured tongue. At first the vet had suggested it go somewhere else, but you insisted you didn’t want to see that. 

“He’s got a bit of a temperature- nothing too serious. You said on the phone he’s malnourished, correct?” she asked, directing her attention back to you. Sans also stared at you with a sad expression, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Yeah, I found him in a house. He was passed out and super cold.”

“Ah. It’s not uncommon for people to abandon their bitties when times get tough- they can be a lot of work to maintain.”

Sans winced at the words, and you wished you could reach out and reassure him, but the doctor went on.

“That said, as long as he’s in good hands and you’re able to care for him, I don’t see a problem. He needs plenty of bedrest and fluids, and no strenuous activity.” Her attention went back to the naga at hand. “Can you take your hoodie off for me, hun? I need to make sure nothing else is wrong with you.”

That’s when Sans started to shake. He looked at you with a pleading expression in his eyes, so small and fragile on the metal table.

“She just wants to help, Sans,” you said, trying to encourage him.

“Uhm… I… I guess so,” he relented, but he looked about ready to pass out. His hands shook as he grabbed the lower hem of his hoodie and slowly, very slowly pulled it up and over his head.

The vet didn’t react. She went right to examining him, making little comments, noting that his bones were a little brittle and she’d prescribe some supplements to put in his baths. 

You, however, were dumbstruck. Sans refused to meet your eyes as the vet continued to examine him. 

His forearms were  _ covered _ in scars. Deep ones, shallow ones, all meticulously carved into his bones, even as they ran across him. His ectobody wasn’t much better- it began leading off from the bottom of his lowest ribs, and everything that the hoodie usually covered was marked up with darker blue lines. 

The vet must have seen you staring, and the look in your eyes. She sat Sans back into his shoebox and handed him his tiny little hoodie. He was quick to tug it on and pull it as far down as possible, skull flushed and eyes averted.

“Sans, you wait here, we’re going to go look at some options for your prescriptions, alright? I’ll get somebody to come and stay with you.”

“Mm,” was all he muttered.

She led you out of the room and shut the door behind her, giving instructions to one of the vet techs running around, who went in where you’d just left.

The vet looked at you.

“I’m going to be frank with you,” she began sadly. “Even with all of the proper care and treatment, your naga might not make it.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t know he…”

“If you just found him, and you brought him straight here, that makes sense,” the vet said. “But he’s suffering. Sans-type bitties can be prone to depression if not given the proper love and care they need, but this is the worst case I’ve seen.”

“I…” you didn’t even know what to say. The vet gave you a frown.

“If you decide to keep this bitty, it’s going to be a lot of work and responsibility. He’ll likely continue to self harm, and as his caretaker you’ll need to do a lot of research and learning on how to care for him and his illnesses. And at the end of the day, no matter what you do, he may Fall if he doesn’t bond with you properly.” She looked very serious. “If you don’t take care of him, he’ll almost certainly dust.”

You gulped. 

“That all said… there’s still hope.” The vet let out a sigh. “His last owners almost certainly abandoned him, and that alone usually dusts a bitty. But he’s still going- he’s strong, and if you love him and care for him, he might end up recovering.” She looked right at you, almost like she was peering into your soul. “All of that said… do you want to take him home with you?”

“Yes,” you answered at once. You didn’t know where it had came from- this fire inside to help the naga. But those marks… how he talked… he was in pain, and he was alone, and if you decided to leave him here he’d die. You couldn’t do that. The image of the little thing laying half-dead in the cold house was still fresh in your mind. If you’d been a day later… would he be alive right now? You squared your shoulders and looked at the vet. “I want to keep him.”

She smiled. “You’re a very kind person.”

When you’d picked a prescription for Sans’s bones, you returned to the exam room and found him curled completely under the blanket. You didn’t disturb him- you could see him shaking through the fabric. 

You paid your dues and said goodbye to the vet, carrying the shoebox back to your car. Once you’d situated him and buckled up the box, you got around into the driver’s seat and let out a loud sigh.

“You wanna come out for a minute?” you asked softly.

Sans didn’t answer. You heard a little noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

“We gotta talk, buddy. I know it’s hard, but…” You rubbed the back of your neck. 

“You can just leave me here.”

Your heart sank as the little voice said it.

“Sans…”

“I know you want to. Heh. I saw the look on your face when you- you saw me.” His voice was muffled by the blanket, but you could still hear him. He sounded upset. You didn't blame him.

“You’re coming home with me. I’m not leaving you here.”

“Why?!” he snapped, throwing the blanket off of himself. He was crying, the translucent blue liquid dripping down his cheeks even as he hastily scrubbed it away. “Why’re you- why are you doing this?”

You opened your mouth at the sight of the little naga, dark bags under his eyes, teeth gritted. You closed it again.

“I’m just a-a stupid- broken snake, I’m fuckin’ w-worthless, I don’t… I don’t get it…” 

His anger broke as he sobbed. He looked up at you, finally, his eyes searching yours.

“Why…?”

You held his gaze for a moment. You weren’t prepared for this- you opened and closed your mouth several times before you sat back in the car seat and sighed.

“I don’t know. I just… I w…” You let out a sharp breath, angered that you couldn’t make your words work correctly. You grabbed the steering wheel in both of your hands and squeezed it. “I wish I had something to say, some big, reassuring gesture of hope, but I don’t. I don’t know why I want to help you so bad… but I do. You don’t have to believe me, just… let me prove it. Give me the  _ chance _ to prove it, okay?”

You looked over after a moment to see Sans still looking at you.

There was a beat of silence, the eye contact broken as Sans looked away… and nodded. He raised the sleeve of his hoodie up and wiped the tears away.

“Heh. Thanks for bein’ honest,” he said gently. He was so fucking small, helpless... your responsibility, now.

“No problem. Thanks for giving me a chance.” 

You drove home as Sans rested in the shoebox next to you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ta daaa more snake man

The rest of the day passed with a sleeping naga. You sat him on the couch nearby while you turned on the TV and browsed around, and he was asleep within minutes. The two of you stayed like that for hours, Sans resting next to you, one of your hands gently draped over his sleeping form for warmth.

It was almost midnight by the time either of you stirred. Sans groaned in his sleep and twisted around, his tail slithering against the blankets as he adjusted himself.

You didn’t think much of it. You only noticed something was wrong when his breathing grew ragged and he started mumbling.

“...pyrus… no… do… don’t…”

“Sans?” you asked softly. The noise must have startled him, because he jerked upright, tail coiling up defensively.

“Papyrus-!” he shouted, only to stare up at you and shut himself up, hands flying to his mouth. 

He was crying. Translucent blue tears dripped down his face and he was sobbing before you could think of what to say.

He let out a broken little laugh before grabbing his blanket and hiding under it. His blue tail still poked out from underneath.

“Sans…?” you questioned.

“M’ fine,” he said at once, voice wavering.

“Uhm… you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you… have a nightmare or something?”

“No.”

“Sans…”

“...Yes.”

You let out a deep breath. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” 

“Okay, that’s fine.” There was a moment of awkward silence as he shifted around under the blanket. “Do you, uhm… want me to hold you?”

That elicited a response. He slowly poked his head out from its confines and stared up at you. You were flushed.

“What?” he asked.

“You know… I’ve read that bitties need contact and physical reassurance and stuff… you seem upset, and you don’t have to talk about it, but if it’d make you feel better, I could hold you or something.”

Sans was slow to nod, but he did it anyways, a curious look on his sad little face.

You reached down into the box and lifted him up, one hand around his upper half and the other supporting the snake parts. You brought him close to your chest and held him there.

It was strangely intimate and weird for you, who had never been intimate with anybody else before. But it didn’t feel… bad. It felt okay, actually. You gave into your whims and began to gently pet along his spine, which made the bitty shiver and… curl closer to you.

No other words were said. You didn’t ask who, or what, Papyrus was, or what the nightmare had been about. You just sat there stroking him until he fell asleep again.

The nightmares stayed away.

 

The next time you saw the scars was when you bathed the bitty for the first time. 

It was about a week after he’d ended up with you- he was getting stronger day by day, eating plenty, no sign of the fever from before. He was still thin, worryingly so, and fragile, so you hoped the prescription for his bath worked. He'd taken a liking to sleeping with you- curled up against your neck, usually. You didn't mind- it became easier for you to show your feelings and make physical contact with the naga.

“Okay… it says we need ten cups of warm water…” you said, reading the back of the powder bottle. Sans sat on the counter beside you, snake part coiled up and hands shoved in the front pocket of his hoodie. 

“It’s like we’re cookin’ noodles or somethin’” he joked nervously, clearly a bit uncomfortable with being naked in front of you again, if how he was clutching his clothes to himself was any indicator.

You chuckled a bit. “Well, you kind of look like one.”

That made his fanged mouth tug up into a smile.

You got the water all ready, measuring it out, letting Sans feel the temperature and adjusting it as he requested. You added the powder and mixed it into the water, which made it sort of milky.

“Looks gross,” Sans commented.

“Sorry bud, you gotta have a milk bath. It’ll help with your bones ‘n stuff.”

Sans sighed. “Yeah… I know. They could make it look a little more appetizing at least.”

“Sorry, do you drink your bath water?” you said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.

Now it was Sans’s turn to chuckle. “Fair point.”

You reached over and gave him a boop on the top of his skull, getting more and more used to the intimacy. “Gotta take your hoodie off, my man.”

Sans ducked his head from your touch and looked away.

You held up yours hands. “Sans, it’s fine… seriously, I’m not judging or anything like that, but we gotta do this. It’s what the doctor ordered.”

Sans grumbled, but slowly complied. He looked up at you for permission before he grabbed the lower hem of his hoodie.

“You, uh… heh. You sure?”

“I’m sure,” you said, leaning down to replace your finger on his skull for a moment. “You’re my naga now, right? I wouldn’t be much of an owner if I couldn’t stand to look at my own bitty.”

Sans averted his eyelights again, paused for a bit, and then looked up at you, searching.

“You… I’m… heh. I’m your naga?”

“I mean- well- you know… if you want to be,” you said at once, which made Sans laugh.

“Yeah, y’know, that sounds like a pretty good deal,” he said.

You gave him a reluctant smile before giving him a noogie and withdrawing. He took his hoodie off, still nervous, but this time you knew what to expect. The lines and chips missing from his bones didn’t phase you- you gently scooped him up and sat him in the warm, milky water of the bath.

“Warm enough?”

“Feels nice,” he said, breathing out and sinking down into the wetness. “Oh, man, I could get used to this.”

“You can only have the milky stuff once a week, but baths in general? Just ask, It’s really not that hard to get a tupperware full of warm water ready for you.”

Sans nodded, eyes falling closed. You picked up his discarded hoodie as he put his hands on the lip of the container, which was shallow enough to still submerge his upper half. If he moved around too much the water would splash over, but as he looked now, he didn’t seem to want to do much moving. He looked half asleep already.

You smiled to yourself as you went about washing the hoodie- using a bit of soap and water to wash any grime off of it, careful not to damage the delicate fabric. Sans only opened one eye to look at you when you pulled the hairdryer out and began to dry the piece of blue fabric, but he was quick to shut it again and sigh as he sunk further into the water.

It was nice to see him so relaxed. You finished up with his hoodie and sat it beside the bath. He’d been in for ten minutes- the medicine called for ten to fifteen, and since this was his first bath, you figured you’d go with the lower end of the spectrum.

“Okay, bud, time to get out,” you announced. He groggily blinked away and looked up at you.

“But ‘m so warm…” he protested weakly. You smiled at him.

“How ‘bout we wrap you up in a towel and I can hold you- you’ll still be plenty warm then, maybe even warmer.”

Sans thought about the idea for a moment, scratching his chin, before he nodded. You picked him up, once more supporting his upper and lower halves, and sat him down on the nearby towel you’d prepared earlier. You wrapped him up tight, like a little snake burrito, and he snuggled into the softness as you held him like a baby.

“How’s that?” you asked, gently rocking him.

“Mm… mm,” he mumbled, curling closer to the warmth of your chest. He still looked half asleep… maybe more like three quarters, at this point. 

You held your naga as he fell asleep, content in your arms. Oh man, you were getting attached.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter warning: self harm

It was late one night. It had been two weeks since Sans had come into your life. 

You laid awake in your bed, rolled away from the naga. He’d been crying- he cried a lot at night, and you learned after the first time that trying to help him didn’t ease his pain. So you laid, a sad soul, as the naga sniffled and tried to hold back his little sobs.

Usually it lasted for a couple of minutes- but tonight he cried for a solid five. You started to get worried.

“...Sans?” you called into the darkness. There was a sudden sharp inhale of breath and some shuffling, but no response.

“You okay, dude?” 

Again, nothing.

You sighed and stood, needing the visual reassurance that your friend was okay. You walked to the desk where his box sat and saw him hugging himself, turned away from you.

“M’fine. Go back to sleep,” he murmured, looking up at you for a moment before wiping the tears from his sockets. 

“You’re not fine… you’ve been crying for, like, five minutes… what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’ I said m’fine,” he tried again, turning more to face you and squeezing himself tighter. “I… I’m fine. Takes a lot more to r-rattle me… heh.”

He looked so small and pathetic in the light from the lamp. You opened your mouth to comment, but as the bitty once more raised his hands to wipe at his face, you saw that his hoodie was… dark, in some places.

“What happened to your hoodie?” you asked.

Sans froze and immediately went back to hugging himself. He looked up at you with  _ fear _ in his sockets.

That’s when you saw it. Peeking out from underneath his pillow- a single razor from a razorblade. 

You stared at it for a moment. Where had he gotten that? Had he had it when you first got him and he’d snuck it into his bed? The thing was old and crusty and gross, and those patches of wetness on his arm…

You reached out and took it. Sans didn’t stop you, just curled up around himself, tail and all, making his body seem as small as possible.

“Sans, did you…?”

He didn’t say anything. It was like he was shutting down. His whole body was tense and rigid. 

You weren’t entirely surprised, but you were still sad. You reached out and gently picked him up- he didn’t fight you.

“Okay… c’mon, let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Before it stains.”

Sans jerked. He looked up for only a moment before he cast his sockets downward.

“You’re, uh… you’re supposed to be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” you said, trying to repeat the things you’d read to do online. “I’m just worried. And I want you to feel better.”

Sans let out a sad laugh before he grabbed onto your nightshirt and pressed himself into the fabric.

 

Cleaning him up didn’t take that long. You got a normal bath ready and took his hoodie off to wash it before you lowered him in. It must have stung as the new marks on his forearm were submerged, but after a moment the warm water seemed to calm him. They weren’t very deep and didn’t look like they’d need medical attention, which was good.

The dark blue substance that leaked from his bones had gotten all over the inside of the hoodie’s arm, but you were sure to give it a thorough scrubbing, Thankfully you’d gotten to it in time- it didn’t stain.

“Okay, bud, you alright in there?” you asked.

“Mm…” he said, still very much reserved. He let everything but his head submerge under the water level, searching your eyes for something.

“You wanna soak, or should we get you out and bandage that arm?”

“Mm…”

“Tail flick for staying in, no tail flick for getting out.”

He didn’t flick his tail, so you reached in and grabbed the wet scaly noodle and laid him down on a cloth.

Bandaging didn’t take long, because his arm was so small. He sat through it with patience, though he refused to look at you again. When you were done and you were content knowing the naga was safe, you wrapped him up like last time and held him against you.

There was silence for a long while as the two of you sat on the couch, listening to the TV, neither really watching it but enjoying the reprieve from the silence.

It had to be half an hour before Sans shifted and turned to look up at you from his burrito.

“Sorry…” he said, barely loud enough to hear. 

“Hey, it’s okay… it happens. We’re just gonna try our best to not let it happen again, okay?”

“I thought you were sleeping… I’m an idiot,” he mumbled. 

“You’re not an idiot, you’re just… sad. And that’s okay, but hopefully, you know, with time… you can be not so sad anymore,” you said awkwardly. “It… was it something I did?”

“No,” Sans said at once, snuggling deeper into the towel. “It…” he sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time,” you said. “If you want to tell it,” you added at once.

Sans didn’t speak for a little while, clutching at the towel and hiding most of his face in the folds. But, eventually, he started:

“I… have a brother…” 

You blinked. 

“I have a brother, heh, he… he got adopted before me. We-” Sans sniffled and then tried to wipe it away. “They just… took him. They took him and there was nothing I could do about it, he was crying, I fuckin…” he shook his head. “I couldn’t protect him.”

“... is that what the nightmares are about?”

Sans let out a sad, heartbreaking little noise, before nodding. 

“I haven’t seen him- god, it’s been years now. I… I fuckin’ miss him. I don’t even know… if he’s still alive.”

“I’m sure he is,” you said, running a hand along his spine through the fabric of the towel. “I’m sure he’s out there… his name’s Papyrus, right?”

Sans nodded. 

“Well… do you remember what bitty store you came from?”

Sans jerked and looked up at you.

“Why?”

“We can probably track down his owner,” you said thoughtfully. “Maybe we can set up a meeting, if his owner lives close by.”

Sans stared up. His eyelights were wide, a little bit of hope in them.

“Are you serious?”

“Of course I am,” you said. “Nagas aren’t supposed to be separated like that, it’s obviously bad for your mental wellbeing…”

Sans still looked amazed, but the hope quickly died.

“He probably doesn’t even want to see me. I’m a sorry excuse for a big brother.”

“Hey, I’m sure he misses you, too,” you comforted him. “It doesn’t hurt to find out, right?”

Sans looked away. “Maybe…”

“Then we’ll try and find out some stuff tomorrow. You wanna go back to bed for now, get rested?”

Sans nodded. He kept glancing up at you before he finally sighed.

“This might sound stupid, heh, but… can I, uhm, sleep with... you? Just for tonight, y’know, I’m feeling a little rattled right now…” he kept his gaze firmly directed at the floor, a blue flush across his tiny face.

“You already used ‘rattled’ today,” you pointed out with a smile. “But… yes, you can.”

Sans smiled reluctantly. 

Back in your bed, he fell asleep against the crook of your neck.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made a poll on tumblr for which fic i should update and i completely disregarded the results and went for this one- because i can.
> 
> its fun imagining how a depressed sans would fare without his brother, or the promise of ever seeing him again. i think it'd change him pretty heavily, make him a bit more open yet unsure.

Sans was dreaming, he knew it because of the fuzzy, hazy atmosphere and how nothing quite came into focus no matter how hard he squinted. But he didn’t quite know it enough to want to wake up, because…

“Look at that human! Their hair is pretty!” Papyrus said, pointing from their shared tank to a lady who was on the other side of the bitty store.

“Totally. Think they dye it?”

“Sans! Humans don’t  _ normally _ come with pink hair, of course they do!”

“Oh, duh, you’re right,” Sans said, leaning back as they sat by the window and observed the surroundings. The pink-haired lady was with two boys, but aside from them, the only other shopper was a gruff-looking man with a scraggly beard. He was talking to the employee at the counter.

Papyrus’s tail flicked. “I wonder what they’re talking about up there…”

“Probably somethin’ dumb, like humans do,” Sans said, picking some pellet-debris out of his fangs. 

Papyrus huffed. As if on cue, the man turned to look directly at their enclosure. 

He raised his hand and pointed, and said something.

Sans didn’t even realize it at first. He didn’t know what was happening until the employee’s hand was reaching into their tank, gloved, and grabbing at his brother.

“Papyrus!” Sans shouted, jerking upright as much as a naga could and reaching for his brother.

“Sans! Put me down, human!” Papyrus demanded, pounding on their hand. 

“Sorry, they’ve never been apart… are you sure you don’t want both of-”

“Just the tall one,” the man grunted.

“No! Noo, no no, Sans, Sans-” Papyrus shouted, tears starting to fall as the situation became clearer. “You promised- you promised!” he screamed up at the human.  
They winced, but were quick to yank Papyrus from the glass prison and toss him into a take home box.

“Pap! Please, no, Papyrus no-” Sans cried, flinging himself at the glass and clawing, pounding on it. He could hear his brother, though muffled, could hear him crying and shouting.

Sans watched as a dark hole blossomed in his chest. He tried to scale the glass but it was no use. He tried to break it, he tried everything while the man paid at the counter. He could only sob and whine as his heart broke and finally, with Papyrus in tow, the man left the store. 

He slid down against the tank wall, curled up around his tail, eyes wide and filled with tears.

 

“Nngh-!”

You jerked awake as Sans grabbed onto your hair, tight.

“Ow, Sans, hey-” you began, until you pulled your head away and saw the horrified, frightened look in his eyes. He’d let go of you and was curled up on the pillow, crying freely.

“Oh… shit, hey, sorry,” you said, reaching forward and scooping the naga up into your hands. “You’re fine- just a nightmare, little dude.”

Sans shook his head, chest heaving as he grabbed onto you for dear life.

“Shh… shhh,” you shushed softly, rubbing at his spine. “You’re fine, man, deep breaths. Everything’s cool.”

It took a little while, but Sans eventually calmed down. His crying lessened to a small shake, and soon after he was breathing deeply against your chest.

“That was a rough one… you okay, little guy?”

“‘M fine,” he mumbled. His hands went tighter in your nightshirt. 

“The usual nightmare?” you asked.

He nodded.

“I’m sorry… you want some hot chocolate?”

He nodded again.

It didn’t take long, or many ingredients, to prepare a bitty-sized cup of cocoa. You’d invested in some cups that were made specifically for bitties, so you poured him some from your own mug of the stuff and put the tiniest puff of whipped cream on the top, careful that the compressed air didn’t blow the drink right out onto the counter.

Sans drank in silence, unwilling to part from you. You held him in one arm while you drank with the other.

“Better not spill that on me,” you said after a big gulp and a lick of your lips.

“I won’t. I’m depressed, not inept.”

You laughed at that, nearly spilling  _ your _ hot chocolate in the process.

“You wanna talk about it, bud?”

Sans was quiet for a moment. He sipped at his drink and considered your offer with a sad face.

“...me ‘n Paps were back in the store… they took him…”

“I’m sorry,” you said. You really were. It was horrible to think that somebody could separate two bitties that clearly needed each other, and in such a sudden, unforgiving way.

“What if… what if his owner doesn’t want to meet with us?” Sans asked, looking up at you, cup empty. 

You didn’t say anything for a while, just took a big gulp of your drink.

You didn’t want to think about that possibility, not after you’d given Sans hope. But… you had to be realistic, Sans was too damn smart to buy the optimism bullshit.

“That might happen,” you relented eventually. “It might be that… we can’t find him at all. But we shouldn’t think about that yet- not when we haven’t even tried.”

“But what if-”

“Then we just… keep going like this,” you said, cutting him off. “You’ll live with me, we’ll get you back on your feet- well… metaphorically speaking, and… and that’s it.”

Sans looked away and sniffled.

“I don’t know if I’d wanna keep going without him.”

“I know,” you said. God, you weren’t good at this, it felt like every word had to be wrenched from your throat. “But, like… do you think your brother would want you to give up?”

Sans laughed for a moment, wiping at his eyes. “No. Heh, he’d want me to try and be the first bitty astronaut or some shit, he always believed in me.”

“Would you want him to give up without  _ you?” _

“He wouldn’t give up, with or without me. He ain’t like that.”

“So…?”

Sans was quiet. You noticed him start to shake after a minute, slowly building into a sob.

“It’s so fuckin’ hard. Everything is just- it’s hard. It’s so hard,” he cried, snuggling back into your chest. “I can’t find a fuckin’ reason to keep going…”

“I’ll help you,” you said at once. “We can find it together, yeah? You’ve got me now, and I want you to get better. I’m not gonna leave when times get tough... I mean, how much tougher could they get?” 

Sans choked out a laugh.

“I don’t know your brother, but he’d want you to get better. He’d want you to be okay, even when he’s not around.”

“... you sure you don’t know him, cause that’s exactly something he’d say,” Sans cried. He was still crying, it was awful, but you rubbed his tiny back and held him close. 

“You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna try our hardest to find him, get you two back together, I promise. If we can’t, I’ll… I don’t fuckin’ know, man, I’ll get the best little bitty therapist in the world, get you some bitty antidepressants, whatever you need.”

“Thank you,” Sans choked out. He looked up, eyes watery and sad. “Thank you…”

“No problem, little guy.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: Angst ahoy mateys, including physical abuse

You made some calls the following morning while Sans slept. He was nestled in a blanket on the couch while you sat in the kitchen, unwilling to wake him after such an awful night.

“Look, I know it’s a little unorthodox, but… he’s really suffering,” you explained to the store employee you were speaking to. “I don’t need the guy’s address or anything, just his number? Please?”

“I really don’t know if I’m allowed to do that…” they said uncertainly. “Let me get my manager.”

You waited. Another minute later, somebody else came on the line.

“Hello, I’m told you’re looking to contact somebody who bought a bitty from our store? Do you have your receipt from the purchase?”

“No, I don’t. I found this Sans bitty in an abandoned house- but he said he was from your store, and that he was forcefully separated from his brother, a Papyrus bitty. They’re nagas, if that helps.”

There was silence on the other line for a little bit. Then, a sigh.

“I know which two you’re talking about. You said he was abandoned? How is he doing?”

“Not well, to be honest,” you explained softly, not wanting Sans to overhear. “He’s cutting a lot and he’s really torn up still about being separated from his brother, which is why I’m calling. Please, I just need the guy’s number, or some way to get in contact with him?”

Another bout of quiet. You waited, a little impatiently, until they began to speak again.

“I’m not supposed to do this, but yeah. I can give you his number- I can’t make any promises that he’ll agree to meet you, but I can do that. Truth be told, I’m the one that separated them, and learning Sans is doing so poorly is… troubling.”

You didn’t feel bad for them. They gave you the number, you wrote it down and told them to have a good day, and you hung up.

Step one… done.

You dialed the number they’d given you. It rang for a little while, and you really thought it’d go to voicemail, but eventually somebody picked up.

“Who is this?”

You told him your name, ignoring how unwelcoming and gruff his voice sounded. “I’m calling about your bitty- assuming you still have him- the Papyrus naga. I happen to own his brother.”

“What of it?”

You flinched. This didn’t sound good. 

“Would you be willing to meet up, maybe a park or something, and let them see each other? Sans is really missing his brother and I think it’d be good for both of them to see one another.”

There was a grunt. “Yeah, I’m not really interested, so-”

“Wait!” you almost shouted, wracking your brain for something to say to get this guy to agree.

“Uh… yeah?”

“I’ll- uh, I’ll pay. For your time, that is.”

A pause. “...Okay, I’m listening. How much?”

“Uh… fifty dollars? Just for, like, half an hour? Plus gas money?”

“Make it seventy five and you’ve got a deal.”

You nodded, relieved. You had money- you were a saver. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He seemed pleased.

 

Sans woke up to you touching his shoulder, gently shaking him awake.

“Ugh… hmm?” he groaned, looking up at you with tired sockets. He looked like shit.

“Hey, bud,” you said, scooping him into your arms. “Made some calls this morning.”

He tensed against you, but he didn’t fight your hold in the least. On the contrary, he grabbed onto your shirt and looked up at you expectantly, sleepiness forgotten. 

“Papyrus’s owner agreed to meet with us tomorrow,” you said.

Sans’s face went through an emotional journey. Confusion, happiness, sadness, anxiety, all in the span of just a few seconds. Eventually, it settled on hope as he stared into your own eyes.

“You’re not pullin’ my leg, right?”

“You don’t have any,” you commented, scratching the top of his skull with a finger. “So, no. I’m not. He said he’ll stick around for twenty minutes and let you see your brother.”

Sans didn’t smile. He looked… pained, in a good way? Tears quickly gathered in his sockets and he grabbed onto your chest for dear life, hugging you as much as his little snake arms could, tail wrapping around your body.

“Fuck- you’re bein’ serious, holy shit,” he cried. “I’m gonna see ‘im.”

“Sorry I couldn’t get you more than that…”

“Are you kidding? I’m- I’m just… I’m happy I’m gonna get to see him at all, I thought I’d dust before I ever got to see my bro again,” he said with a sniffle, laughing against you. “Fuck. I’m. I don’t even know what to say.”

“I know this is a lot to take in, so, you’re valid,” you told him as you continued to pet his head and along his back as he snuggled right up against you. 

“Oh god… what if he doesn’t want to see me? What if he hates me, what if-”

“Hey, hey now, he’s probably just as excited to see you as you are to see him. Let’s not worry about the ‘what if’s’ for now, okay bud?”

Sans didn’t seem to know what to say. He kept staring off at nothing, right through your chest.

“I’m gonna see Paps,” he whispered to himself.

 

Tomorrow rolled around without too much of a hitch. Unless one considered an anxious mess of a sans bitty to be a ‘hitch,” that is. 

The two of you got up pretty early, because neither could sleep and there were things to be done. You gave Sans a bath- he requested it, so he wouldn’t be smelly- and washed his hoodie. As you scrubbed at the delicate fabric you considered that you’d need to buy him new clothes, because all he had was his hoodie and it was going to wear out eventually. It was already kind of stained in some places.

“What do you think he’ll do?” Sans said, slathering soap over his left radius and scrubbing with a small loofa you’d made him out of a portion of your own. 

“Probably cry, like you’re going to,” you supplied.

“I mean…” Sans kept scrubbing, working on his bones before moving to his lower half. He didn’t argue.

“And, hey, nothing wrong with that. It’s a big occasion- it’s okay to get emotional, I won’t judge you for it.”

“What was the guy like? Pap’s owner?”

“His name’s Gus,” you explained as you finished rinsing the hoodie and started drying it. “He was a little… unwelcoming. I had to pay him to come see us, he wouldn’t do it otherwise.”

Sans looked up at you a little bit. 

“Thank you,” he said, out of nowhere.

You stared down at your bitty with a small, confused smile. “Yeah? I mean, you’re welcome, but it’s the least I could do. It isn’t like he asked for a thousand dollars or something.”

“I mean for… everything,” Sans said, a little sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Y’know, I’m not… usually the sentimental type, I’m not real good with this sort of bullshit, but… you’re a real good human.”

You were touched. You reached over and booped him on his nasal bridge.

“You’re a real good naga, too,” you said with a happy smile.

 

The bitty-friendly cafe Gus had agreed to meet you at was nice. It had a lot of patrons with a lot of bitties, so Sans stayed curled up around your neck like a scaly scarf, eyeing the place and shaking. 

“What if he-”

“Ah- none of that,” you said, reaching up and touching his shoulder. “It’s okay to be nervous, but don’t stress out. You’re going to see your brother! Get excited!”

“I’m just…” Sans trailed off as a man walked into the cafe. He was carrying a little bitty-sized pet carrier. 

“That’s him,” Sans breathed, scrabbling to get down and sit on the two-person table you’d managed to snag. “I can feel him- that’s… that’s Paps.”

“Why’s he in a carrier?” you said softly, before Gus saw you sitting there with a Sans naga in front of you and walked over.

He said your name.

“Yes! That’s me,” you said, standing up and offering your hand. He grunted and took it, giving it a short, rough shake before sitting down and setting the carrier on the table. 

“I’m gonna need the money before I let him out,” Gus said.

You nodded. A little rude, but sure. You reached into your pocket and drew out your wallet, grabbing the money discussed and handing it to the man.

He counted it. You didn’t like Gus very much.

When he was satisfied, he gave another grunt and reached over, undoing the clasp on the tiny carrier.

You watched. Sans, who was practically shedding his skin he was vibrating so hard, slithered forward.

Papyrus came out. Your heart went still.

He was wearing a muzzle.

Sans didn’t seem to care. He and the other bitty locked eyes- Papyrus’s were smaller, but they went wide as he saw his brother, and suddenly they were locked together, arms around each other, hugging one another for all they were worth. 

You looked up at Gus. Papyrus was mumbling something but it was lost in the muzzle, which was forcing his jaw closed, by the sound of things. Sans was running his hands along it, finally realizing that his brother had been muzzled like a dog.

“Papyrus. Stop that, lay down.”

Papyrus didn’t. He went back to hugging Sans. He was bigger than Sans by a lot- he had to be six inches in his upper half where Sans was barely four- and his magic was a lighter blue color. 

“Stupid things, they don’t listen,” Gus sighed, reaching over and forcefully separating the nagas. 

You didn’t know what the fuck to say. Papyrus looked up at you, fear in his sockets, before he went right back to his brother, tears falling freely from his sockets.

“Papyrus!” Gus said, angry, and… he flicked Papyrus on the side of his skull.

The bitty whined and immediately pulled away, laying flat on the table.

“His brother have the same behavioral issues?” Gus asked, as though he hadn’t just physically hurt his naga, as though this was an acceptable thing to do. Sans was staring at his brother, at a loss, but he laid down next to him and whispered to him. Gus didn’t pay your naga any mind.

“N-No, uhm… no, he’s well behaved.”

“Know any tricks?”

You felt a dark little pit form in your stomach. Tricks? These were bitties, not fucking dogs!

“Papyrus here knows some. Papyrus, roll over.”

Papyrus did it. You didn’t blame him- not when the punishment for not listening was being hit. It was sickening to watch, and Sans looked like he was ready to attack Gus.

“When I saw these two in the store, I knew I wanted the big one. The little Sans-bitty is such a runt, huh?”

“He’s pretty… small, yes,” you said awkwardly. “Nothing wrong with that, though.”

“To each their own. Took me years to get Papyrus here trained, which is why I was hesitant to let him see his brother. Used to keep me up at night crying, it was annoying as hell.”

Papyrus whimpered at that, shaking, still laying on his stomach. Sans looked up at you with sadness and a deep, building  _ rage _ in his sockets.

You fumbled. Your brain was trying to process this, it was  _ not _ how you’d imagined this going at all, this was… this wasn’t okay! Papyrus was clearly being abused, and there was nothing you could do about it… there was…

“Hey,” you said, going on autopilot. “You wouldn’t be looking to sell him, would you?”

Gus kind of made a face as he eyed you. “I mean, if the price is right. I train bitties, it’s what I do. Buy ‘em cheap, train them, sell them, make a profit. I bought him for three hundred- how much you offering?”

“Seven hundred?”

“Hmm… let me guess,” Gus said, reaching over and roughly petting Papyrus’s back. “You want him so he can be reunited with his brother and they can both live happily ever after?”

You gulped. Sans was shaking in rage now, the anger practically coming off of him in waves.

“Well, my bitty, he’s not… doing so well. He misses his brother.”

“A thousand. Final offer.”

You sucked in a breath. It was a financial blow, but… 

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do a thousand.”

“And that ain’t come with no accessories,” Gus went on. “You get the bitty and nothing else- no cage, no feed, no nothing. Just the clothes on his back.”

“Okay. That’s fine.”

“Upfront payment. No partial payments or payment plans.”

“I can do that,” you said meekly. You glanced down at Sans, who was staring up at you in awe. He didn’t say anything- not with Gus here. Papyrus was looking at you like you were an angel sent from heaven.

“Great. You payin’ now or later?”

“Now. I can pay now.”

You only had a few thousand in savings, in case you lost your job, but this… was worth it. You went through the hoops with Gus, who had this whole thing down to a science and, so long as you got him his money, he seemed more than pleased to work with you. 

Once the money was transferred, Gus gave you an honest smile. It made your guts roil.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he said, reaching over and undoing the buckle on his bitty’s muzzle. Papyrus looked back at the man who had owned him with concern.

“Go on, you’re not my bitty no more. You were always more trouble than you were worth, anyhow,” Gus said and then laughed.

Sans grabbed his brother’s arm possessively, dragging him over. Gus threw the muzzle into the carrier and stood.

“Well, I’m off. I’d recommend training that Sans, he’s a wily one, out of control,” Gus commented, scratching his nasty beard. “Come ta think of it, most Sans’s are… Papyrus’s are easier to train.”

“Okay, I’ll think about that,” you said, hoping to convey that you  _ weren’t _ going to be thinking about it, but you were dogshit at being vague so it probably came off as genuine.

Gus grunted and left, carrier in hand, without another word.

You stared down at Sans and Papyrus. Your two bitties.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last of the sponsored chapters for now! sorry it's a little on the short side
> 
> feel free to hit me up on [tumblr](https://theperfecta.tumblr.com/) if you've got any questions/concerns or anything!

The nagas refused to separate the entire ride home- not that you tried to do so. They twined around each other as though relishing in the fact that, yes, they were both here and alive and not dusting anytime soon. 

Sans was cooing and whispering to his brother, but… Papyrus didn’t speak. He’d whine or whimper now and again, but he refused to say anything. You prayed solemnly that he wouldn’t suffer long-term damage from being muzzled like a dog, but… you were having your doubts. 

You carried them in your arms, Papyrus shaking fiercely, as you finally made your way back into your apartment.

“Shh, s’okay Pap, they won’t hurt ya. Yer fine,” Sans said gently, hugging his brother. It was strange hearing him so gentle, almost like he was a different bitty, but you supposed it made sense.

Papyrus just whined. You were quick to deposit them as softly as you could onto the couch, in the blanket nest Sans frequented. 

“Okay. Okay, uh… phew,” you breathed. “Remind me not to get fired anytime soon.”

“Fuckin’ stupid asshole, that sick freak,” Sans spat, nearly hissed. “I’d like to rip his fuckin’ eyes out.”

You reached over to pet Sans, maybe calm him down… Papyrus intercepted you. He flung himself onto your hand, grabbing at it, and whimpered pathetically. He didn’t bite you or claw you, just… stopped you.

You were a little confused, until Sans made an awful little noise and tugged his brother away from your fingers.

“Hey, shh, hey bro,” Sans cooed. “They’re not gonna hurt me- they’ve never hurt me, ya don’t have ta worry about that anymore.”

Papyrus sucked in a breath, still clinging onto you. It was like he was daring you to hurt him, prove Sans wrong… or maybe he was seeking comfort… you really didn’t know what to do.

You reached over with your free hand and gently touched Papyrus’s back. He tensed and yelped, but you kept your hand there, rubbing as lightly as you could. You withdrew after a moment.

“You’re fine, he’s fine,” you told Sans. “I get it. Just… I promise I’m not like Gus, Papyrus, I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Papyrus was crying. It really sucked that he wouldn’t talk, but you weren’t going to press him. Sans tugged his brother off of your hand and hugged him tight, and Papyrus was quick to wrap around the smaller bitty, tail curling up around his body, and hold him for all he was worth.

“Bro, you can talk now,” Sans coaxed, clearly more comfortable around his brother than you were. “It’s alright.”

“Hh… hhh…” Papyrus gasped as he sobbed. He looked up at you with sad, scared eyes.

“They’re a good human, they’re not gonna hurt you,” Sans repeated. “Promise. Ya know I wouldn’t lie to you, Rus, I been here, what… couple weeks now, and they give me food, and keep me warm, hell they’re such a push over they even let me curl up around their neck ‘n shit…”

“D…”

You and Sans perked up at the syllable.

“Don’t… swear…” Papyrus managed before flinching preemptively as he shied away from you. 

You just smiled at him, the kindest smile you could muster.

“Yeah, you tell him, man,” you said, keeping your voice calm and low, hoping to convey as much as possible that you wouldn’t punish him for speaking. “He swears up a storm.”

“Hell fuckin’ yeah I do,” Sans said as he grabbed Papyrus’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Yer just gonna have to get used to it, bro.”

Papyrus didn’t really do anything, just went in for another hug.

“Sans…” he finally breathed, almost happily.

“‘M here, Rus, ‘m not goin’ anywhere.”

“I-I… I…” he went quiet again, eyeing you.

“Hey,” you began, “I get it- you guys gonna be okay if I head to my room for a little while?”

“I’ll shout if we need ya,” Sans said, giving you a nod of appreciation.

You nodded right back. “Okay. Mi casa es su casa. Just… remember that you’re both safe here, kay?”

Papyrus ducked his head, as though in shame. You gave him a sad smile before waving your goodbye and hurrying to your bedroom, phone in hand.

You had a few calls to make.

**Author's Note:**

> comments/critiques are really appreciated!


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